The Righteous Man
by Lady Bordeaux
Summary: Castiel has been given the task of rescuing Dean Winchester from Hell. And for all the years that it took to find him, it will all turn out to be worth it.


**A/N**

**Warning: This story includes material that may be unsuitable for those who get queasy at the thought of blood.**

_The Righteous Man_

Castiel has heard numerous times of Hell, but as a warrior of God, had never gone before, not unlike many of his brothers and sisters. Hell is a dark place, a smoky pit of death, blood, torture and agony. A place where all evil is cast to rot, receiving pain often beyond punishment for their crimes against his Father.

Heaven is far on the other end of the spectrum. It is beautiful beyond description, a place of joy, contentment, and complete, utter _peace. _The true home of all angels, even those of a lower class than himself. It is the one place where Castiel can be seen in his true form without inflicting terror or pain on others.

Heaven truly is his home, and Hell is more opposite of it than anything else. He does not belong in this fiery pit where he stands now.

Though he has seen cruelty in his years of watching over Earth, often nothing but an odd man with no name to his oblivious bystanders, nothing that he has ever witnessed compares to the cruelty, the _madness _that he senses now. He stands over the edge of the pit, other angels from his garrison in perfect formation, ready to follow their leader to any ends. As his eyes scan the area, plotting out what must be a perfectly formed plan, the wails and tortured shrieks that fill the air bring with them two feelings: the feeling of pain and of insane pleasure. He knows who these feelings belong to in a general sense, and the emotion of pity begins to stir inside his being. But he pushes the feeling down - it is a sin to have such an emotion, to feel sorry for those who disobeyed God. Hell is meant to be an eternity of agony and fear, it is the consequence of their actions.

Not only this, but he is an angel, a brave, obidient soldier of God, and he does not feel anything but unending love and loyalty towards his Father.

With that thought in mind, he raises his hand in a signal to move forward, the move forward they do.

...

When he was granted the task of retrieving the Righteous Man from the pit, Castiel had been given no incentive on how long this mission would take to complete. At the time, he'd felt no need to ask questions. It was, after all, the first truly important task he'd been given, and his fiery determination to complete it faithfully and correctly had clouded his naturally curious nature.

Now, as he fights his way through endless piles of revenge-crazed demons, he has to concentrate on shoving down the regret that keeps forcing its way into his battle-focused mind.

He'd eventually lost count of how much time he's spent slashing through hundreds of thousands of black-eyed, mutilated bodies and coughing violently from the toxic smell of sulfur and blood and spilled body fluids. His eyes sting painfully from the scalding heat that seems to exist everywhere, at all times. His ears are constantly ringing and pounding with the sound of crackling thunder and blood-curdling screams that renders his hearing almost useless. Only his celestial senses allow him to keep pushing his way through clouds of black smoke that blur his vision.

That, along with the ever-present determination to bring back the Righteous Man. To complete his mission.

To finally please his Father, the one he has never seen.

...

It is months later when Castiel realizes how long this mission will take.

At the point, he has only broken through the first line of demons that stand in the way of the Righteous Man.

He presses on.

...

Eventually, after what seems like a milliniem, he Castiel reaches the racks. When he arrives he is beyond the point of exhaustion, of fatigue. His being _must _be on fire, he concludes from the rapidly spreading heat that consumes him. His Grace must be in _slivers, _he decides, from the sharp splinters of _pure agony _that rack his body.

But he doesn't stop fighting, because this is _his task, _and he will most surely _die _before he does something as mundane as giving up.

He pauses to take in his surroundings, and immediately regrets doing so.

Castiel has seen bloodshed. Yes, he's seen it many times, has often been involved in it. He's seen war and blood and pain on Earth numerous times. Humans have always violent and destructive as much as they have been kind and brave. Peaceful negotiations have always been fiction in their eyes, eager for death and war.

Castiel realizes, upon coming to the racks, that they have taken this trait with them even in death.

As he looks upon the souls in front of him, he sees nothing of the beautiful works of art that his Father created. All traces of bravery and kindness have long left the creatures in his line of sight. Those characteristics have been replaced, he realizes, which fear and anguish and pain and _hatred. _

But worse than of all these is the feeling of pure, unshameful _pleasure _that emits from those who are doing the torturing. _  
_

Castiel is almost afraid to look at these souls. The black pits of their eyes, the sadistic smiles that are plastered on their faces as they rip into skin and flesh like they were born to do the deed - a sick feeling builds up inside him, mingled with disgust. It hurts him, he realizes, to think that something as pure and innocent, _as beautiful _as a human child could grow up to become such a tortured, twisted monster, who tore other humans to pieces with a smile on their faces, ice covering their hearts. _  
_

Castiel shakes his head, banishing these thoughts from his head. He is distracting himself from the task at hand by feeling saddened by the sight of these things that used to be his Father's glorious creations. It is a shame, of course. Any angel would agree. But he can think of that later, once the Righteous Man is saved.

...

More time passes.

It's not getting into the racks itself that takes the largest amount of time. It's getting to the center of them, where the Righteous Man was located.

He's not sure how many years pass, but every single one of them is worse than he ever imagined.

The worst part is the screaming. Castiel has only ever heard such screams a few times before, on the battlefield, and they were always short, cut off by an angel blade to the throat, the sound cut of abruptly from the air and fading quickly from the victim's eyes.

But that is only a fraction of the pain Castiel hears as he tears his way through the racks, fighting off the occasional demon. At this point, the rest of his garrison are behind him, either fighting at the entrance to the pit, or searching for the Righteous Man, like him. The only sounds Castiel can hear are the wails and shouts of men and women as their skin is flayed off by a steak knife, their nails being pulled off one by one with pliers, their livers getting ripped out with the bare hands of their tortuerer.

Castiel rushes along on the uneven ground. It's slick with blood and other fluids that he doesn't wish to put a name to.

As he runs, he wishes he could spread his wings and simply fly over the pit to search for the Righteous Man. But he knows the limits that Hell put on his kind. Angels can only fly from the pit, not into it or above it.

Holding back the exasperated sigh that he has been dying to let out during his time in Hell, he continues to run faster, ignoring the aches and pains.

Ignoring the cries of help that fill his ears as he runs past.

...

It has been almost 40 years when Castiel reaches the center of the pit. He's unaware of this, of course; he lost track many years ago.

Castiel stops and his eyes sweep the area, scouting the place for the face of the Righteous Man. And though it takes longer than anticipated, his eyes finally come to rest on the key to stopping the apocalypse.

Only to realize that he is too late.

He feels his hope for success in his mission wither and die. The Righteous Man is leaning over a soul - a woman, perhaps in her twenties or so, Castiel finds it hard to tell, due to all the blood - currently screeching and jerking violently in pain. The angel can only watch on in pure, unhidden horror as the Righteous Man grabs a knife off a table sitting next to him, which he uses to slowly cut open the woman's stomach. Tears leak out of the woman's eyes as she screams and screams, her pleas for help unanswered.

If he were able to gag, he would've, as he watches the Righteous Man reach his hand over the woman's stomach and violently rip the skin off. He then reaches his hand into the hole and pulls.

The woman's screams increase, and Castiel feels like he should _do something, _but he's too shocked to move. It's only when the Righteous Man looks up at him that he unfreezes._  
_

The Righteous Man (though at this point, Castiel isn't sure if he should be called that) smirks. "Is this one next up, Alistair?" he asks, an eyebrow raised. "I'm not quite finished yet." He looks down at the woman, who is currently marveling in the pain-free moment.

A man with white hair and a sardonic smile walks up to Dean, shaking his head. "I haven't got another one lined up until..." His smile fades when he catches sight of Castiel. Fear flashes across his face for a split second, but is quickly replaced by a smirk eerily similar to the Righteous Man's. "You've probably already gathered this," he drawled, "but you're a little late." His smile widens, and he looks pleased with himself, in a sick kind of way. "Ten years too late, actually."

Castiel steps forward slowly. "I would move away if I were you," he says slowly, cooly. He may be too late in stopping the first seal from being broken, but he still has orders to rescue the Righteous Man. "I can smite you where you stand."

Alistair steps back, chuckling. "Maybe. But you can't smite Lucifer as easily, can you?"

This tatic that the demon is using is understandable, of course. No demon, not even one as powerful as Lilith, can hold their own against an angel. Alistair, Castiel concludes, is not as witless as a century-old, black-eyed demon. He knows a fight is useless, even in his own terrain, and will flee. But not before an attempt to corrupt Castiel's faith.

But he is an angel, and to break an angel's faith in his Father is nearly impossible, a weak attack strategy. He steps towards Alistair, no fear present on his face nor in his mindset. "Leave," he commands, "and you will be spared from the wrath of God."

And since Alistair is indeed not witless, he only smirks before departing.

Castiel once again pushes down a sigh and turns towards the Righteous Man. He walks forward, and before said man can even get out a word, Castiel presses two fingers to his forehead, and he collapses.

Castiel takes a moment, a short one, to look at his new charge. His eyes are closed, but Castiel remembers all too well the two empty, black pits above the man's nose. His hair is dirty with blood and grime, so the color can't be distinguished. His face is spattered with blood and bits of skin. It, like his arms, is covered from forehead to chin with scars; long and short, wide and thin. Some are blood-red, as if fresh, even though the wounds have been healed for many years.

The sight makes the angel frown, though he isn't sure why it does. He reaches down and presses two fingers against the side of the man's face, and every mark, every physical reminder of Hell, vanishes instantly.

Then, Castiel, angel of the Lord, grips the Righteous Man tight and raises him from perdition.

...

When Castiel gets back to Heaven, he can't help but ask, "The Righteous Man I pulled from Hell...what was his name?"

Raphael gives the lesser angel an odd look. "Dean Winchester," he replies.

It's the name of a man who will certainly cause Castiel trouble. But it is also the name of the man who Castiel raised from perdition. And he will never forget it.

**A/N**

**I know, horrible ending. But I felt Cas should learn the name of the man he saved.**

**I would love reviews very very much!**

**:)**

**-Maria**


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